i rush for my tube
on my worn city feet
from the rich to the poor
husky buskers
and not such a sweet bird in a restaurant door

friends come and go
occupying my affections
others disappear in the light
give us some direction
and we shall be alright

i have got your attention
as you are passing my direction
but it is only going to be a brief moment
i will not have your full affection

shielded from lights too bright
by your face as dark as the night
held back from pits of fire
by the voice they said is a liar

out of here
out of reach
on paradise beautiful beach
out of here
no callback telephones

and if you feel like it
you can guess the end
but you can look at us assured
and know you have seen your friends

i find it hard to think
with a sense of logic,
thought my thoughts can be calculated
the world that i imagine
is where i appear to be situated

i have been filling my head with memories
ever since i can remember
and recently,
since i first tumbled down oxford street

old halls of peeling paint
and drab post promotional pictures
corridors filled occasionally,
by strange overstuffed personnel

took my thought
and rode across the city
on silver metal machines
devoid of horses
metropolis dark and brooding